Happy Hour
by BlueNeutrino
Summary: Claire Novak and Kate Fuller meet in a seedy dive bar a few miles north of the Mexican border.


She has crimson hair, porcelain skin, and eyes that Claire's seen staring back at her countless times in the mirror. Haunted, determined, and completely, hopelessly lost. The girl looks out of place in the grimy dive bar, like a piece of driftwood swept up in a flash flood and deposited miles from the ocean, yet there was no other place it could have ended up.

Claire slides up onto the barstool next to her and nods at the empty class in her hands. "Let me buy you another?"

The girl turns and eyeballs her, not quite impolitely, but cautiously, suspicion and surprise making a subtle play on her face. "Are you even old enough to do that?"

"Are you?"

In silent answer, the girl takes an ID out of her purse, motions for the bartender, and slides it across the bar as she orders them each a tequila. Claire watches closely: they way light scatters off the laminate, the surface not quite even, the typesetting just a fraction too bold. She's made enough fakes of her own by now to recognise one.

The name says 'Sophia.'

As the drinks arrive, the girl subtly slides it back into her purse. "That answer your question?"

Claire doesn't say a word. She just nods and sips at her drink.

After the burn of the first mouthful has faded from her throat, she ventures a conversation again. "I'm Claire."

"Kate."

Not 'Sophia', then. "So, what's someone like you doing in a place like this?"

It's almost a pickup line, and Claire thinks she sees the girl's lips curve in amused appreciation. "I'm just contemplating how I managed to let two brothers in particular fuck up my life completely."

Claire hums. "Relatable."

"Is it?"

"Maybe I'm off the mark, but I'm gonna guess: they're so obsessed with fighting the whole world for each other, they forget to care who or what gets caught in the crossfire."

"Something like that." Kate drinks, then runs the tip of her finger around the rim of the glass. "Sometimes I wonder what my daddy would think if he could see me now. He used to be a preacher. Always told me, 'Be a good girl, Katie. Go to church, say your prayers, and don't get involved with dangerous men.' Now look at me."

"My dad was a devout man, too. Sometimes I wish he'd lost his faith before it got him killed."

"Don't be so sure that would have saved him."

They both take a moment to drink in silence. Kate seems happy not to talk, but Claire's here for a reason and she has a job to do. "So what is it you do, Kate?"

"Still trying to figure that one out. You?"

"I hunt monsters."

"Oh?" Amusement pulls her mouth into a full smile. "Well, if that's how we're playing it, I rob banks."

"Really? Any good hauls recently?"

"Sure. Made two million off a heist in San Antonio two weeks ago. What about you? Fought any good boogeymen?"

"Killed a couple of werewolves in St Louis last week. I'm hunting vampires now."

"That so? Should I be worried?"

"Depends. See, they're not your typical vampires. Species native to Mexico, have a lot in common with snakes. You seen anyone around with yellow eyes? Or hell, anyone who just looks suspicious?"

Kate doesn't answer. All the playfulness has faded from her expression.

 _Wrong tack?_ Claire wonders, but before she can rescue it, Kate gets up. "Thanks for the talk, but I should probably go," she says, draining her drink then setting the glass down on the bar. "You seem nice, Claire. Don't let yourself get in over your head."

She turns and strides for the exit, pace swift and purposeful without glancing back.

 _She knows something_ , Claire thinks, watching her go, and then, _aw hell, have I just been sat here talking to a culebra and not even realised?_

Abandoning the tequila, Claire checks her purse for the wooden stake she'd brought with her then follows Kate out into the parking lot.

There's no-one there when she arrives. A handful of cars are scattered across the lot: mostly clapped out bangers, a pickup truck that's seen better days, and a 1960s Mercury Cougar that makes her think of Dean. No trace of Kate.

Claire reaches behind her for the gun tucked into her jeans and silently flicks the safety off. An unreliable streetlight flickers, casting shadows over the entrance to an alley at the side of the building, and Claire cautiously begins to approach. Something scuffles amongst the dumpsters.

Using her phone as a flashlight, she raises both that and the gun in front of her and peers into the dimness. Something crunches under her boots, a wave of rotten stench hits her nostrils, and she wrinkles her nose. Then, the beam lands on two yellow points that glow and flash back at her in the dark.

Claire jumps. The cat screeches then scurries off into the shadows, unaware how close it had come to provoking her trigger finger. Letting out a breath, Claire sighs and lets her shoulders slump in defeat. There's nothing there.

She turns to head back inside and suddenly finds herself staring into yellow eyes behind horn rimmed glasses, and a blue eye in the palm of a hand.


End file.
